Circle of Love (12 page)

Mrs. Smith's smile lit the room. "Oh, darling Nelly, you're going to be mine!" she cried, but Nelly, realizing what was happening, stretched out her arms to her brothers and began to wail at the top of her lungs.

Frances, forcing back her own tears, handed out papers to a number of eager foster parents, but occasionally there was an eruption of tears on the stage, and she hurried to try to solve the problems.

"Nobody picked me!" Margaret sobbed. She clutched her rabbit tightly.

^They've just begun meeting the children," Frances told her. She pulled out a handkerchief and wiped Margaret's eyes. "Smile," Frances said. "You're such a dear girl, when people see that happy smile, someone is bound to want you."

Frances paused. At the back of the stage Eddie was entertaining a group of fascinated listeners by

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acting out the exploits on the train. "So there stood the robber, with his gun pointed straight at me," Eddie said. He raised and pointed an imaginary handgun at a woman, who gave a little jump and squealed. "But he wasn't going to get the best of me—^not Eddie Marsh, who knew his way around the streets of New York City from the time he learned to walk."

Chuckling at Eddie's performance, Frances walked on.

Although many of the children were surrounded by smiling or curious adults, Aggie sat miserably alone on her stool at one side of the stage. With an aching heart Frances saw Aggie glance hopefully at two of the couples who came near, but none of them approached her.

Frances started toward Aggie, but a middle-aged couple imwittingly stepped in front of her. They stopped next to Aggie and examined her as though she were a bolt of cloth.

"She's a strapping big girl," the woman said to her husband. "She's not much to look at, and that red hair's a sight, but I'm sure she can handle plenty of hard work."

The woman suddenly took Aggie's upper aim in her roughened hands and squeezed the muscle.

Her face mottled red with anger, Aggie jerked her arm away. "Don't touch me!" she shouted at the woman.

"Well, I never!" the woman exclaimed. "Hard worker or not, I don't want a rude child like you!"

As the woman and her husband stomped off the stage, Frances put an arm around Aggie's shoulders. "Pay no attention to people like that," she said.

"I don't want to go with them," Aggie insisted.

"You don't have to," Frances told her.

"I—I don*t want tx) be kitchen help. I want somebody to love me."

"Somebody wUl."

Aggie seemed to shrink inside herself. "Maybe Mrs. Marchlander was right Maybe no one can love me.

"Aggie, dear^ forget Mrs. Marchlander. She was wrong," Frances said. "Forget these people who were rude to you. I wouldn't have let you go with them in any case. You weren't sent here to be an unpaid worker. You were sent to be part of a loving family. Look for the family who'll choose you. If you see people coming to talk to you, smile at them. I know you must have a beautiful smile."

"Smile just so they'll choose me? That's like begging. 1 can't do that! I can't!"

*Then smile because you'd choose them. Can you try?"

Aggie lifted a woebegone face to Frances. "I guess I can try," she said.

Frances was needed to help a young couple fill out papers for Philip, so she left Aggie, hoping for the best.

Caroline Jane went willingly with a pleasant young man and woman. She tugged at Frances's skirt and whispered, "They'll take care of me, and my father won't be able to find me, will he?"

Frances knelt and put her arms around the little girl. "You'll have a new life with people who'll love you. Try to forget the unhappiness of your old life. Will you?"

Caroline nodded agreement, but tears rolled down her cheeks. Frances kissed her goodbye, tears blurring her own eyes. Were Caroline's fears real? Would

her father try to find her? Frances hoped and prayed that only the best would come to this frightened child.

Margaret bounced up and down as she said goodbye to Frances. "Someone did want me after all!" she exclaimed. She clung to the hand of her new foster mother, smiling as though all her wishes had been answered.

Frances said one goodbye after another, each time hoping that the right decision had been made and both the child and the foster parents would be happy. But how can we really know what lies ahead for these children? she asked herself. All we can do is hope for the best

Finally the room had cleared of the people who had come either to take a child or to gawk. Frances asked Mrs. Judson to go through the papers so that Frances could make sure the information was complete and accurate. Seventeen of the thirty children had been chosen. "Thanks be that Emily Jean and Harriet Averill are going to the same family," Frances said to Mrs. Judson.

Mrs. Judson ran her finger down the list she'd drawn up. "Nelly Babcock and Lizzie Schultz—^the babies and toddlers are always chosen first. Philip Emery, he's just four and cute as a button. He was bound to be a first choice. Next we've got Frank Fischer, David Howard, WiD Scott, Marcus Melo, and Sam Meyer, which is no surprise. Farmers need boys who can help with the heavy chores."

Frances felt a stab of concern. How well she remembered Mike's terrible treatment at the hands of Mr. Friedrich! She said, "Mrs. Judson, you vouched for the people who chose the boys. You said you

knew them. They'll be good to the boys, won't they? Surely they didn't come here just to get free farm labor?"

Mrs. Judson looked solemnly at Frances. "Have you ever lived on a farm?"

"Yes," Frances .answered.

"Then you khow the hard work that's involved. Rise before dawn and work until after dark. Every member of the family pitches in." She relaxed, patting Frances's hand. *The people who chose the boys are all good people. They won't abuse the boys. They'll treat them like their own children."

Frances nodded.

"By the way. Will won't live on a farm," Mrs. Judson said. *The couple who picked him—Sara and Otto Wallace—raised eight boys, all of them grown or off to school, and they're lonely. Otto is a well-respected doctor in a nearby town. Will may eat plenty of chicken, because sometimes the only way people can pay their doctor bills is with chickens or eggs, but he'll have a happy life."

Mrs. Judson went on with her list "Caroline Jane Whittaker, Margaret di C2^o, Mary Beth Lansdown, Nicola Boschetti, Lottie Duncan, Alexander Hanna, Virginia Hooper—" She stopped and smiled. *That Virginia's a caution. I heard her tell her foster parents that she's really a princess who was switched with another child at birth. Well, knowing the Johnsons and how much they wanted a Uttle girl, theyll undoubtedly treat her like a princess."

Frances thanked Mrs. Judson and her committee members, then gathered the children who were left

Eddie sidled up to Frances, a worried look in his eyes. "I was a hero back at the train," he said, "but I guess no one was lookin' for a hero. I heard two peo-

pie say they wanted a quieter, more well-behaved child, not a lad of the streets like me."

Frances smoothed back Eddie's hair from his forehead. Such a tough boy, but with such open, vulnerable eyes. Eddie reminded her so much of Mike when he was young. "WeVe got two more stops," she said. "You'll have a family soon."

But Eddie's confidence was ebbing, she could tell. "The lads back home would have been proud of me," he said.

"And rightly so. Fm proud of you, too," Frances told him.

Mrs. Judson stepped up to Frances and waved a list "Here's where the remaining children will be put up for the night. These are all good people who'll feed them supper and breakfast and have them at the station tomorrow morning in plenty of time to catch the train."

*Thank you," Frances said.

"As for you and the boy here," Mrs. Judson added, lowering her voice, "Sheriff Malloy and his wife are putting you up at their house."

"That's very kind," Frances said.

Mrs. Judson's eyes widened. "Oh, it's not to be kind," she said. "That robber who was on the train with you—"

"Seth Connally," Frances prompted.

"Yes, Seth Connally. As I was saying, he'll figure it out, if he hasn't already, that the two of you probably had something to do with setting the sheriff after him and his brothers. Since there's nothing to say that this Connally won't come back, the sheriff thinks you'll be a lot safer under his own roof."

Sarah Malloy, who was as soft and plumply rounded as a feather bed, smiled and hugged Frances as they were introduced. "It*s a wonderful thing you're doing, helping to find parents fof orphans and waifs," she said.

"Fm glad 1 was able to rely on the committee," Frances answered. "Fd never have been able to figure out, among all those people, which would be good parents and which wouldn't"

Sarah's eyebrows rose and wiggled, as though she knew secrets no one else could know. "Hummph!" she sniffed. "I'm afraid the committee can be counted on just so far."

"What do you mean?" Frances asked.

"Think about it. Is Zeke CoUey, who owns a feed store, going to tell you not to give a child to a good

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customer, even though he knows the man is after a free farm worker and nothing more? Or will Effie Jerome snitch on her best friend, even though she knows her friend has a temper that can*t be matched and has been known to take a heavy switch to unruly children?"

Frances pressed a hand against a painful knot that had suddenly appeared in her chest. "If Fve made some mistakes, maybe it's not too late to correct them. If you'll give me names—"

Sheriff Malloy tossed his hat at the top of a coat rack that stood just inside the front door of the small, cozy living room. "Now, Sarah, don't go stirrin' up Miss Kelly about somethin' that didn't happen. I was there. I saw who got the children, and they were all good, law-abidin' folk."

"Whatever you say," Sarah said pleasantly. She busily straightened a lacy antimacassar that sprawled over the back of a nearby upholstered chair, as if she wanted to show she didn't really agree with her husband. "Miss Kelly—" She beckoned toward a short hallway. "Put your hat and baggage in the first bedroom. You'll share it with our girls. Eddie can sleep on a pallet in front of the fireplace in the living room. Then join me in the kitchen. I'm making fried chicken and mashed potatoes for supper, and you can lend me a hand if you wouldn't mind."

"Not at all, you are very kind, Mrs. Malloy."

"You may call me Sarah, dear."

"Then please call me Frances," she replied.

Frances made sure that Eddie was comfortable before she went to help Sarah with supper.

"Will Seth Connally come back, like they think?" Eddie asked.

"No, he won't," Frances answered. "He's too

smart to try a senseless act like that." She ruffled his hair as she added, "All youVe got to worry about is how much of Mrs. Malloy's chicken and mashed potatoes you'll be able to eat."

Eddie relaxed enough to smile, so Frances left him and walked into the kitchen.

She had questions for Sarah, but she didn't have to ask them. Sarah wanted to know about every child chosen, and she had comments to make about each set of foster parents. Frances was prepared to learn the worst, but with relief she soon found that Sarah's remarks were no more damaging than the tittle-tattle that went on at church suppers:

"Oh, she makes out to be the frugal one, but it's a fact that she sews fancy lace on her bloomers."

"She won first prize with her apple pie, but it wasn't her receipt at all. It was her sister's."

"A well-dressed feller came 'round, claimin' to be his brother, and didn't he have his nose in the air, but it turned out they weren't brothers at all but second cousins, and the cousin had walked out on a wife and six children."

Sarah glanced sidelong at Frances. **That robber that John thinks might come back—^how did you get to know him?"

"He was a passenger in our car on the train," Frances answered.

Sarah rolled her eyes. "You took up with a strange man on the train?"

Frances ignored the shock in Sarah's voice. "No. I didn't take up with anyone. Half a dozen adults sat in the seats at the rear of our car. Mr. . . . uh . . . Connally was one of them."

"But he must have talked to you. He must have

told you what he plaimed to do." Sarah was so intent on hearing what Frances had to say that the chicken pieces sputtering and sizzling in the pan began to bum.

Frances wrapped a towel around her hand and slid the large, heavy iron skillet to one side of the stove. Sarah, embarrassed, jumped to turn the pieces so that they would brown evenly.

Knowing that Sarah would keep after her until she answered her questions, Frances said, "He told us just before he left the train. He was going to take Eddie hostage. I stopped him."

"My land!" Sarah exclaimed. "Weren't you afraid?"

"Yes, I was."

"And aren't you afraid now that he might come back?"

Frances thought a moment. Seth was intelligent, and there had been much he'd learned as a soldier— when to hide and when to pick the right time to make his move. He wouldn't return to Harwood for her. It would be too dangerous for him. If he came for her, it probably would be after she'd arrived back home . . . alone. Yes, she decided. That would be the time and the place. Frances knew this just as certairUy as if she had received a mental message from Seth. Cold chills ran up her backbone, and she shivered.

"There, there, I knew you were afraid," Sarah said with satisfaction, "but you don't have to wony. Where else could you be safer than in the sheriff's own home?"

Soon the Malloys' two daughters were called inside to supper. The older, about fourteen, Frances guessed, had washed at the pump by the back door.

but it was obvious that the younger, who must have been no more than seven, had settled for some hasty splashes at her face, leaving streaks of dirt.

"WeVe got company," Sarah said. She moistened one end of a towel and scrubbed hard at her squirming daughter's face.^

As she helped'carry platters of food to the sturdy table that filled one comer of the living room, Frances saw with surprise that she and Eddie weren't the only guests for supper.